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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23970856">Hawkeye's Rendezvous with the Devil</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/breatheforeverypart/pseuds/breatheforeverypart'>breatheforeverypart</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hawkeye &amp; The Barton Family [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>CLAIRE TEMPLE IS AMAZING, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Dumpster Friends, Gen, Hurt/Comfort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:36:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,599</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23970856</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/breatheforeverypart/pseuds/breatheforeverypart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawkeye and Daredevil had a 'nice' night in Hell's Kitchen knocking out the remaining members of a human trafficking ring.  Barton winds up in a dumpster, because he's a very clumsy man outside of being an Avenger.  Claire is called, and night of monitoring Clint's concussion and some Murdock drama ensues.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Claire Temple &amp; Avengers Team, Clint Barton / Natasha Romanov, Matt Murdock/Claire Temple</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hawkeye &amp; The Barton Family [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758646</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hawkeye's Rendezvous with the Devil</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi!  Please enjoy my Daredevil crossover, I really like the Defenders so I would like to continue writing one-shots.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Sugar cookies!”  He swore as a blade nicked his ear, knocking his hearing aid loose.  </p><p>His head buzzed, a sure sign of a concussion.  Barton hauled himself up the fire escape panting in pain as his knee dragged along the metal.  His vision dimmed as he shot one of his remaining arrows at the warm body trying to rip him from the structure.</p><p>“Come on.”  He gritted, willing himself to roll onto his stomach.  Clint’s ribs screamed in protest and groaned.  Both hearing aids lost in the scuffle, a plethora of bruised ribs, he definitely pissed off his lower leg.  Stark was gonna kill him, this was his back-up pair of aides.  In exploring his head, his hand came away bloody and Clint was dimly aware of falling off the escape into a rancid pile of something nasty.  </p><p>***</p><p>“Are you sure you’re not hurt?”  </p><p>“Yes!”</p><p>“You’re a terrible liar Matt, sit down and take off your shirt.”  </p><p>“We have company Claire.”  </p><p>“Watch it Murdock.”  </p><p>“Ow.”  </p><p>The man on the sofa moaned.  “Where’s the garbage cloud?”  He slurred, sniffing his gloved hand.  </p><p>“He means dumpster.”  Matt explained.  </p><p>“He means he has a concussion.”  Claire corrected, flicking a light at Hawkeye’s pupils.  “A bad one.”  </p><p>“What?”  Hawkeye turned to the nurse, squinting at her face.  “Sorry, can’t hear you.  I lost ‘em again.”  </p><p>Matt chuckled.  “Stark’s gonna kill you.”  He signed in passable conversational ASL.  </p><p>“You sign?”  Claire asked, quirking an eyebrow.  “Why am I not surprised, you’re a mystery Murdock.”  </p><p>Clint tried to sit, his arm wrapped around his chest.  “I hate puking.”  He moaned.  “This is going to suck.”  He retched and winced as the fractured bones grated against each other.  </p><p>Claire rummaged around in her bag for a roll of elastic bandages.  “How many did you break?”</p><p>He spit into the bowl Matt held under his chin and wiped at his mouth.  “I just need to wrap them, I’ll heal up fine.”  </p><p>“He takes after you, stubborn asshole.”  Claire shook her head.  “Will you take a painkiller?”</p><p>“Hmm.”  He nodded and held out a hand.  “With pleasure milady.”  </p><p>“At least he’s not stupid.”  She teased Murdock, sarcasm dripping off every word.  </p><p>“You know you love me.”  He smiled, signing to Clint.  “He’ll stay here tonight.  I’m going to call Romanov.”  </p><p>“Thank you.”  Clint murmured, swallowing the pills Claire popped in his mouth.  “You’re just as awesome as Matt says you are.”  </p><p>“And you’re just as stupid as they all are.”  The nurse smiled and continued cleaning the various cuts and injuries.  </p><p>“Tell Nat, I’m good.”  He addressed the pillow, wincing as he tried to find a position that didn’t further anger his injuries.  </p><p>***</p><p>“I’m going to shower.  Are you staying?”  </p><p>“No, you’re not.”  Claire leapt up from her perch in the armchair.  </p><p>“Temple, I reek of dumpster, do you even know what was in there?  What my couch is covered in?  What you touched?” He gestured to the now sleeping Hawkeye, drool pooling on the upholstered pillow.    </p><p>“Stop.”  She pushed an index finger into his chest.  “I don’t need a rundown of what your super senses detected to know it was disgusting, I have a nose.  But if you need stitches I’d rather do it now.”  </p><p>“Fine.”  He sighed, struggling out of the suit.  </p><p>“Matthew Murdock.”  She chided him, tying her hair back in a worn elastic.  “Your back is…what did this?”  </p><p>“A whip?”  He guessed, trying to sound innocent.  </p><p>“Don’t even.”  Claire warned as she gently probed the skin around the wounds.  </p><p>He hissed at her touch and dug his nails into his thighs.  “Didn’t feel that bad at the time.”  </p><p>She finished disinfecting the wound and unraveled thread for stitches.  “Liar.” </p><p>“Maybe.”  He grunted as Claire held the sides of the wounds together, and began stitching.  </p><p>They fell into a familiar silence, Claire working quickly trying to save the most masochistic man she knew from more pain.  </p><p>“I thought you worked solo.”  She tied off the last stitch.  “Pass me the scissors?”</p><p>He scanned the floor for the instrument.  “Sometimes.  He and I were rooting out the last of the ring Jones and Romanov hit.”  </p><p>“Did you get them?”  She asked quietly.  Her ER had been frequented by survivors of that particular trafficking ring.  Any who hadn’t been liberated the night Jess and Natasha had taken out the leaders, were punished and beaten nearly to death.  The monsters barely braked as the girls tumbled out of sports cars in the ambulance bay.  </p><p>Matt rotated his neck, working out the muscular tension from a full night of crime-fighting.  “Yeah.  I think we did.”   </p><p>“Good.”  Claire finished sealing the bandage with water resistant tape.  “You’re free to get the garbage juice off.”  </p><p>Matt wrinkled his nose.  “Well, that ruins apple juice for me.  Finish the bottle in fridge if you’d be so kind.”  </p><p>Claire laughed.  “For someone who is so used to violence, you have a super weak stomach.”  </p><p>“We’ve all got our issues.”  He laughed, stepping out of his suit.  “Help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”  </p><p>“You keep food here now?”  </p><p>“Whatever you find is yours.  Foggy dropped some leftovers off yesterday I think.”  </p><p>“He makes the best pork chops.”  Claire sighed.  “Thanks.”  </p><p>“The least I can do is try to feed you.”  He rubbed at the back of his neck.  “Thanks Claire.”  </p><p>“You’ve got more here than Jones has.”  Claire tried to keep her voice light, but the wounds in varying stages of healing that littered his limbs and torso distracted her.  The trafficking ring may be dismantled, but at what cost?  Her mind drifted to her other patient at Stark Tower, a deadly former assassin, fiercely protective and ultimately as broken as the rest of them.  The greater good had a price higher than most of the world seemed to be willing to acknowledge.  </p><p>***</p><p>The shower started, and Claire turned her attention to the man on the couch.  He whimpered and twitched, seeming to flinch against an invisible force.  </p><p>She pulled a plate of leftovers from Matt’s sparse refrigerator, complete with a sticky note.  The Braille overlay made her smile.  ‘You need to eat!’ the label read.  As it warmed in the microwave, she finished preparing Matt’s comfort food.  A bowl of organic plain oatmeal, made with mineral water and topped with organic wildflower honey.  His super senses wreaked havoc with his appetite.  As a result, he went through periods of struggling with eating that were similar to Natasha’s issues.  </p><p>Matt shuffled into his living room.  “Did you make me food?”  Surprise in his voice as he toweled his hair.  </p><p>“I know what you like.”  She handed him the bowl, balancing her own plate against her forearm.  “Tell Foggy I said thanks for the meal.”  </p><p>“Will do.”  He crossed his legs and settled himself on his rug.  The light of the awful billboard shining into the window highlighting the footprint shaped bruise darkening on his chest.  “How’s Barton?”</p><p>“He hasn’t thrown up again.  I’ll wake him up in another hour or so, try to get in some fluids.”  </p><p>“Natasha says she’ll pick him up in the morning.”  </p><p>Claire stifled a yawn.  “Isn’t it already morning?”  </p><p>“Pretty much.”  Matt scraped the last of his oatmeal into the spoon.  “You can crash here if you want.”  </p><p>“Okay.”  She agreed, too tired to navigate her way back to Harlem after pulling a 12- hour shift and then moonlighting as a night-nurse to Avengers.  </p><p>“Take the bed, I just changed the sheets.”  He took her plate and helped her to her feet.  </p><p>“Aww, just for me?”  She smoothed the bandaged stitches on his back.  “Thanks Matt.  Wake me if you need me.”<br/>
***  </p><p>He smiled and dumped the dishes in the sink.  His pocket vibrated, ‘Nat Nat Nat Nat”  </p><p>“Can’t sleep?”  He answered, padding out of the kitchen.  </p><p>“Don’t be smart.”  Natasha yawned.  “How is he?  He once told me he wanted to spar after I stitched two of his toes back on.”  </p><p>Matt wrinkled his nose in curiosity.  An urge to examine the aforementioned toes rose to the front of his mind. “Fine.  He can keep the pillow he’s currently spooning on my couch.”  </p><p>She laughed.  “Why?”  </p><p>“Because it smells like the dumpster I found him in.”  </p><p>“Ah.  Well that explains absolutely nothing and everything about your evening.”</p><p>“That’s Barton.”  He gingerly leaned against the sofa, testing the soreness of his stitches.  “Hey, do you want to bring us coffee when you come to get him?”  </p><p>“Okay.  Got a preference Murdock?”  Natasha asked.  “Barton is going to be one cranky man-child if he wakes up before I get there with his lifeblood.”  </p><p>He smirked.  “Doesn’t have to be good coffee, just caffeine.  I’ll drink anything.”  </p><p>“Don’t.”  Natasha pouted playfully. “You’ve got expensive taste, I’ll liberate some of the good shit Tony got at Christmas.”  She ended the call.  “I’ll be there in 20.”  </p><p>Matt broke into a grin and pulled a few transcribed case files into his lap to review.  His fingers scanned the documents as Clint snored loudly above him.  He left a question for Foggy to wake up to, and asked for his coffee order.  If he was still functioning in a couple hours he might even pick up breakfast for the Karen, she loved a good bagel and smear of cream cheese.  The scent made him gag, but at least he convinced her to switch to a bakery with a better health code rating.  The life of a vigilante was anything, but boring or particularly nice-smelling.  Clint would be taking the blanket and pillows back to the Tower with him for an industrial cleaning.</p>
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